The Mammoth Book of Mountain Disasters
Page 57
Dafydd – a postscript
Sitting in my climbing clothes and boots in the corridor of the overworked A&E Department at Raigmore Hospital my thoughts drifted to the others, Dave in particular, as we had no idea what state he was in. The place was full of Saturday night drunken casualties giving the nursing staff a hard time as they tried to help them. The next thing was I collapsed on to the floor – one way to grab attention!
I woke up slowly on a trolley to find nurses trying to get my boots and salopettes off as they wheeled me into a cubicle. Doctors came and went and, after some brief examinations, said that I should get my clothes on and I could go home.
Somewhat surprised, but in no real state to argue, I thought fine I’ll get dressed and go, which is what I tried to do, and then – bang – I collapsed again. I was put into a room on the ground floor where this time I managed to black out in the toilet whilst having a pee. Fortunately my father, Hugh, and a couple of nurses came to my aid. I remember thinking as I came round on the floor with my head by the toilet, I hope they wash the floors in this place.
Subsequently, following the diagnosis of internal bleeding in the form of a serious pelvic haematoma, I was put on to a ward with some long-term cancer patients and a chap who wanted his manhood straightened, which provided some light-hearted entertainment for the rest of us on the fourth floor which, ironically, had a superb panoramic view of the Fannichs in their winter splendour.
Dave was in the High Dependency Unit just down the corridor and I was keen to see him but it took a couple of days before I was able to take my bags of blood for a short walk to Dave’s room. This was the first time I’d seen him since Alpha Gully. He looked battered and bruised; the chest injuries had resulted in a pneumothorax, seriously life-threatening at the time but treatable in hospital. His head injuries were fortunately all superficial, though his face did seem to be a different shape and colour from a few days before!
I learned that the A&E consultant who saw him on arrival estimated that, given the injuries and with no intervention, he may not have survived for a further two to three hours, given his condition.
Acknowledgments and Sources
I would like to thank all contributors to this book. Their stories were often difficult to tell where past traumas were relived and recorded in black and white. I apologise for harassing them with deadlines when they had more rewarding things to do, such as rescue the less fortunate or go on expeditions.
The majority of the contributions from rescuers and rescued in this volume were originally commissioned for my earlier books, High Drama (Hodder & Stoughton, 1980) and The Price of Adventure (Hodder & Stoughton, 1987). A couple of these pieces developed out of climbing magazine articles, others became articles or were later incorporated into books. “Lucky Joe”, for example, later developed into Joe Simpson’s award-winning bestseller Touching the Void.
Later versions of “We Recover the Bodies of our Comrades” and “The Matterhorn and the Bergschrund” by Ludwig Gramminger appear in Hans Steinbichler’s biography, Ludwig Gramminger: das Gerettete Leben.
“Shibboleth” by Andrew Fraser first appeared in the Edinburgh University Mountaineering Club Journal of 1959.
“A Cauldron of Wind” is reprinted in Markus Burkard’s book, Mein Flugbuch.
“Buried on Mount Cook” is included in Karen Gazley’s book, My Everest.
“Not a Place for People” by Pete Sinclair is excerpted from his The Last Innocent Americans.
“Self-help on the Ogre” by Doug Scott has appeared in part in Mountain magazine and in Games Climbers Play compiled by Ken Wilson.
“Windy Mountain Epic” by Alison Osius appears in her biography of Hugh Herr, Second Ascent.
I am grateful to Blyth Wright for last minute translations, Dawn McNiven, the Press Officer of RAF Kinloss, and my editor, Margaret Body, who has checked all my literary body bags.
Hamish MacInnes
Glencoe
Endnote
1 For many details of events, I did not personally witness, I am indebted to James Lipscomb’s account in two issues of Sports Illustrated, 1965, “72 Hours of Terror”, June 14 and “Night of the One-Eyed Devils”, June 21.